


The Wooden Cross

by CassTrash



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood and Gore, Character Death, F/M, Heavy Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-02
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2019-02-17 12:11:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13076613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CassTrash/pseuds/CassTrash
Summary: Castiel goes to the field where you were given a hunter's funeral.





	The Wooden Cross

Flowers and blades of grass swayed back and forth in the calm spring wind, narrowly missed being tread on by dress shoes that didn’t belong there as the possessor walked through the field, a cheap bouquet of flowers clutched in his left hand as he neared closer to the centre of the circular field. 

He bent down beside the wooden cross that was laying on the dirt and gingerly picked it up, placing it back into the makeshift hole the Winchester brothers created decades ago. His fingers slid down the rough wooden cross and to the dirt where he laid his hand flat and closed his eyes, imagining what life would’ve been like with another Winchester in the world.

He placed the bouquet of flowers on the dirt and laid on his back beside them, squinting up at the sky and watching the clouds roll by. They created different shapes in different sizes, one of them even looking like a pendant the eldest brother has on an old leather strapped necklace that he received as a gift from his sister. He can’t bring himself to wear it anymore but he always keeps it with him.

The angel stared at the sky, wondering what she was currently doing up in her own heaven. He imagined her happily relaxing with her mother and father, eagerly waiting for the day her two brothers would join her up there. Their family would be reunited at last.

Castiel came here on a regular basis, it was his own way of coping, though he didn’t know her back then. She was only a child, six in fact, and he called himself a soldier of heaven. They both lived two very different, yet similar, lives.

She had no idea about the monsters and all the evil in the world, her brothers made sure of that. Well, that was until the night she died. She had been hit with the hard truth that there were things horrible out there, much worse than she could ever imagine. 

He tried to rid the thoughts of the yellowed eyed werewolf snatching her from their motel room while John desperately tried to chase after it, only for the werewolf to escape. Castiel squinted his eyes as he thought of John stumbling upon her body all mangled and bloody, her heart missing. He could see Sam and Dean running behind their father, trying to get passed him to see what he was frozen in shock about, only to see her and immediately break down in tears at the realisation that they had lost their baby sister.

His eyes reluctantly opened and looked over to the large dirt patch near the trees, where John would’ve given her a hunter’s funeral despite her only being six years old and not even a hunter. He imagined Sam and Dean too shattered to even look at the flames that were higher than both of them combined, instead they were sitting side by side as they stared at the tiny wooden cross they assembled from twigs and planks they found laying around mere minutes ago. Both of them holding each other as they tried to not cry, they wanted to be strong for her, just like she remembered them as.

John would’ve collected your ashes in a plastic container after the last of the flames burnt out and he would’ve given them to Dean and Sam to hold onto. They would’ve sat in the back of the impala, the container on both of the laps as they both tightly held onto it and tried to not cry as they drove to Bobby’s where they would bury the ashes. 

Sam went through the same experience as Dean did when Mary died, he refused to talk to anybody other than his older brother and, even then, it wasn’t often. Dean was quiet but talked to people when he could, he just wanted something to keep his mind off of it. Bobby would have let them stay over for the next couple of days while John tracked down the werewolf to get the revenge he sought.

He sat back up and stared down at the different hues in the bouquet, imagining what she might look like now that she would have been thirty three. Cas’ heart was beating fast even thinking about it. He knew she would be gorgeous, he just wished that he could see  _how_ gorgeous. Castiel’s own eyes were tearing up by now but he refused to let any tears slip. He may not have known her, but he wanted to be strong for her. He was supposed to be her guardian angel, after all. He had been too busy fighting wars to realise the pain she went through.

“Happy birthday, Y/n.” he said, his voice cracking as he spoke her name for the first time in a  _very_ long time. Cas pressed his fingers to the ground once more and closed his eyes, trying to picture her face when life was much easier for her. He could faintly see her as a baby, wrapped up in a grey coloured blanket and sitting in Dean’s lap as he held her. Sam would be patiently waiting his turn for a hold while John stared down at his children, a small smile on his face.

“Happy birthday.”


End file.
